Chapter 21: When Chaos Comes Calling
Mike ran at a steady, sustained pace along the southern road, a route the people of the Forest had come to know as the Road of Tears.
The well-maintained cobblestones passed beneath his feet as he raced through the darkness. Towering trees lined both sides of the road, their branches forming a canopy overhead that allowed only occasional glimpses of the moonlit sky. The cool night air carried the scent of damp leaves and the surrounding Forest, but Mike paid little attention to anything beyond the road ahead.
Reluctantly, he slowed just enough to pull his pocket watch from his coat.
13:23. The witching hour. Thirty-seven minutes until the clock rolled over to 1:00 and a new day began. Mike feared the current one wouldn't end without a great many lives being lost.
He'd been running for fifty minutes now. Knowing how quickly he could cover ground, Lady Akari's warband should be coming into view before too much longer. He'd received word that the Goblin Riders had departed eleven minutes later than Lady Sylvara had hoped, but that wasn't enough of a delay to cause him much concern.
What concerned him was the Princess.
Not knowing what was happening to her was killing him. Was she safe? Had they already come under attack? Or worse, had he already waited too long?
Desperate for answers, Mike tried once again to commune with the Goddess Nia.
Attempting to establish a connection while running was far from ideal. Normally, he would enter a meditative state, clearing his mind of distractions until he could reach out to the Goddess. Doing so while maintaining his pace was extraordinarily difficult, especially with the steady pounding of his feet against the cobblestones and the wind rushing past his ears. But he couldn't afford to stop.
He'd already attempted to contact her once, shortly before leaving Glenhaven, and received no response. He wasn't particularly hopeful this attempt would be any different. He knew Nia wasn't deliberately ignoring her Voice. Creating her Chosen had left the Goddess in a weakened state, limiting her divine powers, including her ability to commune with him.
But he had to try.
To his immense relief, this time she answered.
Hurry.
So much had been communicated in that single word.
Hurry. She needs you.
Hurry, before it's too late.
Hurry, while there's still time. And that last thought gave Mike something he desperately needed. Hope.
If Nia was telling him to hurry, then there was still a chance. He could still reach the Princess in time.
Mike knew how to pace himself over long distances, conserving enough strength to fight when he reached his destination. That was the pace he'd been maintaining, but he knew he could go faster. He also knew what pushing himself harder would cost him when he finally reached the Princess.
And so he increased his pace, his feet striking the cobblestones faster as the trees began flashing past on either side. The cool night air rushed against his face, carrying the scents of damp earth and fallen leaves.
He wouldn't be at his best when he arrived, but what good would being at his best do if he arrived too late to make a difference?
Hurry.
That had been the Goddess's command, and if Nia had expended what little divine power she had available just to communicate that single word, then Mike would obey without question.
Slipping his watch back into his pocket, Mike gave it everything he had. His strides lengthened as he pushed himself beyond the pace he'd maintained for the past fifty minutes. Even his sweat seemed to understand that it was time to double down, beading across his forehead before running down toward his eyes. Mike wiped it away with the back of his hand, refusing to let something as trivial as stinging sweat slow him down.
The Forest rushed past in a blur of dark trunks and shifting shadows. Somewhere in the distance, a night creature cried out, but its call was quickly lost beneath the pounding of Mike's feet against the stone.
Before long, he heard something else. Howling, followed by the distant sounds of voices and the unmistakable rhythm of hundreds of paws striking the cobblestones.
Lady Akari's party.
The riders soon came into view ahead of him, their silhouettes moving through the darkness beneath the trees. It wasn't much longer before Mike was passing them.
Cheers erupted from the Goblin riders as he raced past. Some shouted words of encouragement, while others urged their mounts to pick up the pace. The Dire Wolves responded with a chorus of howls, and Mike didn't need a mental connection with them to understand what they were saying.
Someone had just dared to challenge their prowess at covering long distances, and that challenge had been accepted.
Apparently, Mike wasn't going to be the only one pushing himself beyond his limits tonight.
He didn't look back as he passed Lady Akari, but he could hear the riders and their mounts responding to his challenge. Goblins were a competitive bunch, and he'd just given them something to prove.
Under different circumstances, Mike might have smiled at that. But tonight, his thoughts were on the Princess, somewhere farther down the Road of Tears, and the terrible possibility that every moment might matter.
He kept running.
Arch Lich Othran monitored the movements of his forces as they began encircling the Dryad Princess's camp.
According to the Hag's ravens, someone had figured out what they were planning, and reinforcements had already been dispatched from the city. Worse, the Gnome had survived the trap intended to kill him and was now making his way south.
Othran feared very little in this world, but that Gnome was one of the few exceptions.
He should have known the plan would fail.
If not for the preparations he'd made for precisely this contingency, Othran might have retreated from the Dryad Forest the moment he learned the Gnome was coming. He was no exceptional fighter, and he knew better than to challenge an opponent whose strength lay in direct combat.
Planning, however, was another matter.
Othran had spent decades learning that even the most carefully constructed schemes could unravel. That was why he always prepared alternatives, and alternatives to those alternatives.
Things had certainly gone wrong, but not badly enough to abandon his objective.
He slipped his skeletal hand into the pouch at his left hip. When the bone of his index finger brushed against the teleportation crystal inside, he felt a measure of reassurance.
Waiting to ambush the Princess at Willow Glen was no longer an option. Not with reinforcements approaching. His forces would have to strike her camp before help could arrive.
“Report.”
“Our forcessss to the east and west of their camp are in place, Great One. The last group will be in position soooon,” the Hag replied, keeping one hand over her left eye.
“And you're certain no one has detected our presence?”
“Asssss you commanded, they have remained outside detection range.”
Good.
The undead possessed many weaknesses, but they also had their strengths. Chief among them was their unquestioning obedience. Give them an order, and they followed it to the letter.
Their command structure was another advantage. Othran issued his commands, and his subordinates carried them out without argument.
The attack on Willow Glen had demonstrated both strengths.
The village had never stood a chance, although its defenders had put up considerably more resistance than he'd anticipated. One in every six of his lesser undead had been destroyed during the assault, but the greater loss had been two of his ten Death Knights, along with the Ghouls under their command.
Still, losses could be replaced. That was one of the advantages of commanding an undead army.
Willow Glen had been a sizable settlement for this part of the forest, with a population of approximately seven hundred. Fortunately, only a small garrison of Spirit-folk soldiers had been stationed there. Even with the villagers joining the defense, they had been unable to hold the walls.
Othran would have smiled at the memory if his withered face had still been capable of the expression.
Willow Glen had proven to be an unexpected windfall.
Not only had he replaced his losses among the lesser undead, but he'd increased their numbers substantially. They were weaker than Death Knights, certainly, but quantity had a strength all its own. He could have raised even more if not for the fact that over a third of the village's population had been Spirit-born.
Most had been killed without providing him anything useful. Their bodies resisted his necromantic methods, a problem that had frustrated his research for years.
He had, however, managed to capture more than twenty alive. Those slaves were already being transported south under the guard of one of his remaining Death Knights.
Perhaps this batch would finally provide the breakthrough he needed to create undead from Spirit-born.
That was the hope, at least.
“I think the Council should provide me with one of those staffs,” Princess Seraphyne Noctara said. “I want to be able to make and control lesser undead as well.”
Othran sighed internally before turning his attention to the Princess.
He might be good at making plans, but this Succubus was beyond his ability to predict, let alone control. If he hadn't needed her cooperation to carry out the mission, he would have left her back in the village with as many playthings as it took to keep her occupied.
Unfortunately, some things simply couldn't be put in a box.
As calmly as he could, Othran explained once again why resurrection staffs were reserved for those who could make the best use of them.
“Princess, as I have explained before, we do not have resurrection staffs growing on trees in numbers large enough to hand them out like gem berries. Every time one is created, it goes to someone on the long list of Necromancers and Liches still waiting to receive one.”
Seraphyne barked out a laugh. “Then just make more. Duh!”
Othran rolled the eyes he no longer possessed. He was about to respond when an idea suddenly struck him.
Perhaps it was time for Plan B.
“You know what, Princess? I think that's an excellent idea. Remind me, the moment we return to the Chaos Lands, to arrange for you to speak with the First of Nine. She would be the one to ensure you receive everything you deserve.”
If he couldn't get rid of the pain in his side, perhaps he could make her someone else's problem.
And who better to inherit that particular headache than Queen Elizabeth Báthory herself?
The Queen was the supreme ruler of the forces of Chaos, the First of Nine on the Council, and, most importantly, the person responsible for assigning Othran this miserable mission in the first place.
He'd been a little slow to recognize what she'd done to him, but after several weeks of reflection and no small amount of self-recrimination, he finally understood.
“You're right,” Seraphyne declared. “Why am I wasting my time with the likes of you when I could take my complaints straight to the top?”
Othran watched as her brows furrowed.
“Only, she never seems to have time to speak with me whenever I ask for an audience. And I have so many things to tell her about everything they're doing wrong in the Chaos Lands.”
“Trust me, Princess. If you speak with your father, I'm certain he can arrange an audience with his sister-in-law.”
He conveniently neglected to mention that it was a poorly guarded secret that the two despised one another.
Prince Cassian Noctara would love nothing more than an opportunity to make his wife's sister miserable.
Hell, the Incubus Prince probably wouldn't hesitate to join the scheme himself if Othran explained exactly what he had in mind.
The Queen was powerful, but this pain in his side was a Chosen.
Othran decided then and there that once he was safely out of this cursed forest, he would begin putting his revenge into motion.
“Do you think I'm stupid?” Seraphyne demanded. “I've asked my father dozens of times to arrange a meeting with the Queen, and not once has he agreed!”
“That's horrible,” Othran replied with feigned outrage. “I promise you, Princess, I will do everything in my power to ensure your father sees things the right way.”
That brought a smile to the Succubus's face.
Eager to change the subject, Othran shifted his gaze to the Princess's latest plaything. He was hopeful she wouldn't break this one anytime soon. Spoiled as the Princess might be, she wasn't entirely brainless. Now that he understood how to handle her, however, she was proving remarkably easy to manipulate.
As a Succubus, Seraphyne couldn't benefit from most of the healing magic available to Othran's undead forces. She had good natural regeneration, but that wasn't much help in the middle of a fight. Fortunately, the raid on Willow Glen had provided a solution to that particular problem.
The Dryad Shaman was young and relatively low-level, but she possessed healing magic capable of treating the Princess's injuries. She also had a few particularly nasty offensive curses, something Othran had discovered the hard way when she'd single-handedly destroyed one of his Death Knights.
He knew Shamans could be dangerous, but he hadn't expected a Level 21 Shaman to defeat a Level 37 Death Knight.
That loss had wounded his pride, but now they had the Shaman under their control, thanks to Seraphyne's Soul Taming skill.
Soul Taming (Psychic / Spirit Spell) — Lv. 2 — Allows the user to bind captured souls as familiars under their control. Each bound soul requires 10 Willpower to maintain and deals Spirit damage when used in combat. Living sapient beings whose Willpower is overcome can be temporarily bound as Soul Slaves but cannot be made permanent familiars while alive. While at least one soul remains bound, the user gains bonus experience from combat. Success is determined by Willpower + Charisma vs. Target Resistance.
The Dryad's eyes stared blankly into the distance as Othran studied her.
He knew enough about Soul Taming to understand that her consciousness was still there. She could see and hear everything happening around her, but she had no control over her own body while Seraphyne maintained her domination.
All she could do was obey the Succubus's commands.
Othran was grateful for that. It meant there was no chance of the Dryad warning the camp about what was coming.
“Great One. All our forcessss are in place and awaiting your command,” the Hag announced suddenly.
Othran pulled out his pocket watch, a gift from his father before their liege lord had betrayed him and his entire family over something as petty as a newly discovered silver mine on his father's lands.
Othran had been the only one to survive that treachery.
He checked the time.
13:35.
Witching hour. How appropriate, Othran thought.
“Order the attack.”
“TO ARMS! TO ARMS!”
The warning rang through the camp, followed almost immediately by the blaring of a horn.
Within seconds, the quiet of the camp was replaced by a flurry of activity. Tent flaps were thrown open, weapons were snatched up, and shouted orders carried over the noise of boots pounding against the ground.
Jamie shot out of her tent with Ember close behind her, followed by Hope and Sentinel.
All around her, the camp was coming alive. Goblins hurried toward their assigned positions, Royal Guards called out instructions, and Sprites took to the air above the wagons. The wolves were already gathering around their handlers, their ears raised and their attention fixed on the darkness beyond the camp.
There was plenty of shouting, but Jamie quickly realized something important. Nobody seemed to be running around without knowing where they were supposed to go.
Jamie spotted Tovin and Adelaide waiting near her team's designated rally point among the wagons, both already dressed in their armor and carrying their weapons.
It was probably the worst possible time to ask, but Jamie couldn't help herself.
“Do the two of you sleep in your gear or something?”
“Don't you?” Adelaide shot back.
“Yes,” Jamie replied, rather unconvincingly, before waving the question away.
“What's going on?”
“Undead,” Ember and Tovin answered at the same time.
“They'll be on us in less than two minutes,” Tovin added, checking the loading mechanism on his crossbow.
Jamie looked toward the perimeter, but between the tents, wagons, and gathering soldiers, she couldn't see what was approaching.
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That didn't make her feel any better.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, reaching out through her connection to the earth. Almost immediately, she felt them.
Hundreds of feet pounding against the ground, approaching from beyond the camp. There wasn't enough time to count them all, but there had to be hundreds.
Jamie's eyes snapped open.
Oh, this was really bad.
“Well, that's not good,” she muttered.
“There are at least three hundred of them,” Jamie announced. “Maybe as many as four hundred.”
Everywhere she looked, formations were taking shape. Goblin Royal Guards formed defensive lines around the camp, while Goblin Riders gathered in the gaps between them. As soon as five or six Riders had grouped together, they charged out into the darkness, where they could put their mobility to better use. The howls of their Dire Wolves told Jamie they'd caught the scent of their prey and were closing in on the enemy.
Overhead, Sprites darted between positions, relaying orders and checking the approaches to the camp. Captain Gerg demonstrated why he'd been placed in command, barking orders and directing guards to reinforce any position that didn't meet his approval.
Then came the first explosion.
Another followed, and then another.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Jamie caught sight of a tiny orange streak cutting through the darkness. She followed it with her eyes as it arced high into the air before plunging toward the ground.
BOOM!
Controlled chaos, Jamie thought.
Then she remembered what they were supposed to do.
“Okay, everyone, we follow the plan. We need to get the noncombatants into the middle of the wagon train, just like Captain Gerg told us.”
There was no argument.
Every evening, before the night watch was established, Captain Gerg had gone over the camp's defensive procedures. Everyone had been included in those briefings, from the Royal Guards down to the cooks and Royal Maids.
Jamie had wondered whether going over the same instructions every night was really necessary.
She wasn't wondering anymore.
Othran watched as an orange streak tore across the night sky before plunging toward the ground. The resulting explosion sent a wave of kinetic heat rolling across the battlefield.
“It would seem they've released that damn Pixie early,” he muttered.
If they didn't do something about that Titan soon, she might very well win this battle single-handedly.
Othran turned toward the Hag. “Send out your newest creation to say hello.”
“Yesssss, Great One.”
The Hag knelt beside the small cage she'd placed at her feet before the attack began, and Othran watched with a measure of apprehension as she reached for the latch. From within came a series of sharp clicks and wet popping sounds, accompanied by the scraping of thin limbs against the bars. Whatever eagerness the creature felt at being released, it was making no effort to conceal it.
The moment the Hag opened the cage, something pale and impossibly thin began to unfold itself from the darkness within. Eve was no larger than an ordinary Pixie, standing barely eight inches tall, but that was where the resemblance ended. Her unnaturally long, narrow limbs were covered in corpse-pale skin, with black, thornlike growths protruding from parts of her body. Four tattered, purple-black wings spread behind her as she straightened, while loose strands of white hair framed an oversized head. Deep within her enormous black eye sockets glowed two tiny violet-white lights, and when she turned toward Othran, her mouth stretched into a grotesque smile, revealing rows of needlelike teeth.
“For the love of Chaos, send that thing out already,” Othran ordered.
He had encountered countless horrors during his years studying necromancy, but there was something particularly disturbing about the eagerness he saw in that expression. Eve seemed almost delighted by the distant sounds of battle, flexing her elongated fingers as her wings shivered behind her.
The Hag extended her hand, and Eve climbed onto it with movements that were strangely delicate for something so grotesque. Her long, clawed fingers curled around the Hag's thumb as she turned her oversized head toward another orange flash in the distance.
“Go, my pretttyyyy,” the Hag whispered. “Go and plaaaay.”
Eve's smile widened even further, stretching across her tiny face in a way Othran wouldn't have thought possible. Before taking flight, the Death Pixie released a shriek so chilling that, had Othran still possessed living flesh and warm blood, he was certain it would have turned his blood to ice.
With a sudden flutter of her wings, Eve launched herself into the night, leaving a purple glow in her wake. Othran followed the light as it raced across the battlefield, heading straight toward the orange streak that was already climbing into the sky, preparing to dive-bomb another group of his undead.
Jamie waved a few more maids into the inner circle. The wagons had been arranged so that, in the event of an attack, the most vulnerable members of the caravan could retreat into a protected central area. The experienced fighters would hold the outer defenses, while Jamie and her team, being among the lower-level combatants, were responsible for protecting the people inside.
It wasn't the most glamorous assignment, but Jamie understood why they'd been given it. If something managed to get through the Royal Guards, someone still needed to be standing between it and the people who couldn't defend themselves.
“Adelaide, help get the cooks into the center, then join the rest of us once they're settled. Tovin, make one last search for anyone still missing.”
“On it,” Tovin replied before hurrying off.
Hope, things are going to get crazy. Stay by Ember at all times, Jamie sent through their bond.
Hope sent back her understanding.
“Sentinel, I have a feeling the left side is going to come under more pressure than anywhere else. Take up a position over there,” Jamie instructed, pointing toward the section of the inner circle she wanted him to defend.
The Dire Wolf moved to his assigned position without hesitation, while Ember and Hope remained close to Jamie.
The Sprite twins appeared moments later, accompanied by six additional guards who had been assigned to reinforce the inner defenses.
“Princess!” one of the twins called as she descended beside Jamie. “We're here to help!”
“Good! Everyone, pick a spot along the defensive line,” Jamie instructed.
Jamie began casting Poison Ivy walls wherever she thought their defenses needed shoring up.
Tovin returned a moment later with two straggling Sprite maids. Once he'd gotten them safely behind the wagons, Jamie began counting heads to make sure everyone was accounted for. There were supposed to be twenty-two noncombatants inside the circle, but she'd only reached seven when a blur of purple light streaking across the night sky overhead caught her attention.
“What the heck is that?” she asked, looking up.
“Beats me,” Adelaide replied, following the same strange light with her eyes.
They watched as the purple streak collided with the orange light racing across the sky.
BOOM!
Sparks scattered through the darkness like Fourth of July fireworks, and everyone nearby was forced to avert their eyes when a second, even brighter explosion followed the first.
Without warning, Vixen shot nearly a hundred feet through the air, her orange glow tracing a brilliant line across the darkness before she made a not-so-sharp turn and charged straight toward the approaching purple light.
BOOM!
“Guys, do the undead have Pixies too?” Jamie asked, staring at the two lights battling overhead.
“I've never seen or heard of the undead having one,” a maid answered, apparently just as fascinated by the spectacle.
“That's absurd. No one has Pixies except the Great Trees,” one of the Goblin guards with a shield and spear insisted.
“I think somehow that just changed,” Jamie replied.
“We need heals over here!” someone shouted from somewhere to Jamie's left.
She couldn't tell who had called for help, but her first instinct was to run toward the wounded.
“Jamie! What are you doing? Stay back from the front lines!” Tovin shouted after her.
“I'm just going to throw some heals and come right back!” Jamie called over her shoulder.
As she hurried toward where she thought the shouting had come from, Jamie could see that things were quickly getting out of hand on the western side of the camp. Around twenty Goblins were struggling to hold back nearly three times their number in undead, while two Shamans worked behind the defensive line, casting healing spells whenever someone was injured and throwing curses at the attackers whenever they had an opening.
Jamie slowed to a walk, confused by what she was seeing.
Wait, they already have healers. Why did—
She never finished the thought.
A glowing yellow teleportation circle suddenly appeared beneath her feet, its intricate markings flaring to life before she could react. Jamie barely had time to look down before the spell activated, and the battlefield vanished around her.
One moment, she'd been safely behind the Goblin defensive line. The next, she was standing alone in the middle of the woods.
Jamie spun around, trying to make sense of what had happened. She had no idea where she was, although she could still hear the distant sounds of fighting somewhere beyond the trees.
Then she spotted movement.
Apparently, she wasn't alone after all.
“There you go, Princesssss. Asssss you have asked, so have I done,” a decrepit-looking woman said.
“Well done, Hag. You may leave us now.”
Jamie turned toward the unfamiliar voice, and what she saw made her freeze in place.
“Ahhhh, hi, I guess,” Jamie managed. “Come here often?”
“I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for us to meet,” the gorgeous woman replied.
Her features were partially hidden in shadow, but the rest of her was considerably easier to make out. The woman had the sort of figure that demanded attention, with curves that seemed almost unfairly generous.
Wow. This girl was built to impress.
“Oh, my God!” Jamie exclaimed before she could stop herself.
She tried to maintain her composure, but seriously, this woman was stacked. Without thinking, Jamie glanced down at her own chest before looking back at the stranger.
“Well, that's not fair,” she muttered.
Jamie was about to come up with something clever when the woman shifted slightly, bringing the whip in her hand into view.
Oh. Well, that changes things.
“Okay, I'm not entirely sure what's happening right now, but I feel like I should tell you my safe word.”
“Darling, a safe word will not save you from what I have planned for you,” the woman replied with a smile.
Then she spread her enormous batlike wings, their dark membranes catching what little light filtered through the trees.
Jamie felt something tugging at her mind, only for Thought Anchor to activate.
Thought Anchor (Psychic — Control / Resistance) — Lv. 2 — Grants resistance to charm, fear, and domination; strengthens will-based contests.
Oh, crap. A Succubus!
With her wand already out, Jamie unsheathed her sword as well. The Succubus was right. No safe word was going to save Jamie from this woman.
Jamie immediately cast Identify. She needed to understand what she was dealing with.
STATUS SCREEN
Name: Seraphyne NoctaraRace: SuccubusSex: FemaleLv.: 22Class: Soul TamerAffinity Types: Shadow, Psychic, SpiritWeapon Specialty: Whip
TITLES:
Chosen of Malvara, Goddess of Hungering Silence — +10 Spirit
Weaver of Broken Wills — +5 Willpower
Collector of Echoes — +5 Charisma
Princess of the Chaos Lands — +20 Charisma
GREATER BLESSINGS OF MALVARA, GODDESS OF HUNGERING SILENCE:
Divine Empowerment
All base attributes and ability points gained per level are doubled.
Feast of Agony (Passive Aura — Suffering)
Gains stacking bonuses to Spirit, Willpower, and damage output when nearby enemies experience pain, fear, or emotional distress. Effects intensify during prolonged engagements.
LESSER BLESSINGS:
Identify (Spell) — Reveals information about allies and enemies. Effectiveness improves with use.
ATTRIBUTES:
Strength: 30Agility: 40Constitution: 50Stamina: 45Intelligence: 50Willpower: 60 +5 WillpowerSpirit: 55 +10 SpiritCharisma: 53 +5 Charisma +20 Charisma
ABILITIES: (17 / 20)
Whip Mastery (Weapon Skill) — Lv. 2Improves control over chained and segmented weapons. Agility and Charisma increase attack precision and disarm chance.
Soul Taming (Psychic / Spirit Spell) — Lv. 2Binds captured souls as permanent familiars, each requiring 10 Willpower to maintain. Bound souls inflict Spirit damage and grant bonus experience. Living sentient beings may be temporarily enslaved but cannot become permanent familiars while alive. Success depends on Willpower and Charisma versus target resistance. Moderate mana cost.
Familiar Command (Psychic Utility Skill) — Lv. 2Allows direct mental control of bound soul-familiars, directing their movement and attacks without verbal commands.
Shadow Lash (Shadow — Attack Skill) — Lv. 3Infuses the whip with Shadow mana, increasing damage and causing bleeding and spiritual abrasion. Scales with Agility and Spirit.
Pain Chain (Shadow / Psychic — Control) — Lv. 3Links to a target's nervous system, intensifying pain from attacks and feeding Feast of Agony.
Soul Rend (Spirit — Offensive) — Lv. 2Tears fragments of spiritual essence from a target, temporarily reducing Willpower and disrupting regeneration. Especially effective against casters and familiars.
Predator's Allure (Psychic — Charm Field) — Lv. 2Projects an aura of attraction that lowers nearby enemies' guard and reaction speed without overriding conscious intent.
8.Veil of Understanding (Psychic — Offensive / Debuff) — Lv. 1Clouds the target's perception and slows their reaction time, making it harder to recognize incoming threats, respond to attacks, and react to changes in combat.
Siphon Vitality (Spirit Spell) — Lv. 1Drains health and stamina over time, converting a portion into self-healing. Needs to make physical contact with target.
Siphon Will (Psychic / Spirit Spell) — Lv. 1Drains resolve and casting stability, weakening resistance to Psychic effects and Soul Taming. Needs to make physical contact with target.
Dominant Presence (Passive Aura — Authority)Projects an intimidating presence that makes weaker-willed enemies hesitate to engage. Scales with Charisma.
Shadow Skin (Racial Passive)Shadow-veined flesh provides resistance to physical damage and fear-inducing abilities.
Mind Domination (Psychic — Passive Aura)Projects a subtle aura that lowers resistance to spoken suggestions. Sweet, friendly, or seductive requests become more persuasive, encouraging trust, hesitation, or actions the target would normally refuse.
Phantom Step (Shadow — Mobility) — Lv. 2Dissolves into shadow and instantly reappears in any shadow within 40 feet, leaving a fading afterimage. Cannot pass through solid walls or magical barriers. Level 2 improves mana efficiency and reliability. Cooldown: 20 seconds. Cannot be chained.
Succubus Kiss (Psychic / Spirit — Drain) — Lv. 2Drains Spirit and Willpower through direct lip-to-lip contact, replenishing mana and weakening Psychic resistance. Longer contact increases the effect. High-Willpower targets may resist or interrupt the drain.
Whispers of Madness (Psychic — Illusion / Distraction) — Lv. 1Plants convincing false sounds in one target's mind, including footsteps, voices, and warnings. Sounds appear to originate from the environment. Cannot compel behavior, and strong-willed targets may recognize the illusion.
Cruel Reversal (Whip Mastery — Counterattack) — Lv. 1Channels Shadow mana through the whip to counter close-range attacks, potentially unbalancing, interrupting, or briefly restraining opponents. Inflicts Shadow damage and intensifies existing wounds. Scales with Agility and Spirit; stronger opponents may resist restraint.
Oh, this was bad. Like, really bad. Jamie was outleveled, outclassed, and out of her mind if she thought she had any chance of winning this fight.
On top of that, the one advantage she'd thought she might have over this woman turned out to be no advantage at all.
They were both Chosen.
Jamie decided to try the last thing she could think of that might still save her.
Buy time.
She'd read books where the hero managed to win fights simply through the power of quips. Granted, she couldn't remember any of those heroes facing a Succubus princess who could probably kill them without breaking a sweat, but she was running out of options.
Here's hoping.
“Can we maybe, you know, instead of whatever it is you have planned for me, settle things a little more amicably?”
Seraphyne laughed. “Oh? And how would you suggest we settle things, Princess?”
“Okay. Hear me out.” Jamie could feel where her people were through her bond with Ember. They weren't close, but they were working on it. They would try to come for her. She just had to keep this chick talking, no matter what.
I need help, and fast, Jamie sent.
I know. Stay alive, and I will find you, Ember replied.
Really? Last of the Mohicans?
I don't know what that means, and you know it.
I just need to deal with something, and then I'm on my way, Ember added.
Okay. I'll try.
“Well? I'm waiting,” Seraphyne said impatiently.
“Right, sorry. Like I said, hear me out.”
“I go find some baby oil. We slip into some very flattering bikinis. You in all black,” Jamie said, motioning up and down at the Succubus with her sword. “Obviously.”
“And me in forest green. Then we wrestle to decide the fate of the world.”
Jamie watched as a smile spread across Seraphyne's face before the Succubus tilted her head slightly to the left. There was nothing pleasant about that smile, and it told Jamie everything she needed to know about just how much trouble she was really in.
“You know what, Princess? I like you. It's a shame I have to kill you right now. I would have loved to play with you over several days of agonizing torture. It would be interesting to see just how long you could last before you finally broke.”
“So, that's a no on the baby oil and bikinis?” Jamie asked.
“I'm afraid so, darling. Besides, I already have a very cute Dryad to play with later.”
Seraphyne gestured to her left with her free hand.
“Come here, slave.”
Ember watched as Jamie started running toward the western defenses.
That girl, I swear.
Leave it to Jamie to run off and do her own thing. Her pack mate was a lot of things. She was kind, loving, mischievous, and cared deeply about the people around her. Almost too much, if Ember was being honest.
Ember could feel that there was a fear buried deep inside Jamie, a fear of losing someone she cared about at any moment. She didn't know where that fear came from, though she'd asked her pack mate about it more than once. Each time Ember brought up the subject, she could feel Jamie closing herself off, sometimes so completely that even their emotional connection disappeared for a moment.
That frightened Ember more than she liked to admit. When two beings shared a bond like theirs, suddenly losing that connection, even for a few seconds, felt as though the world were crumbling down around them. After experiencing it several times, Ember had eventually stopped asking.
Then came the day Jamie decided for Ember what her powers needed to be.
That was something a pack mate should never do, and Ember had felt deeply betrayed. She'd been so upset that she'd even considered breaking their bond altogether, despite knowing how detrimental that would be to her own growth and development.
She was glad she hadn't.
Ember loved Jamie more than almost anything, despite what she'd done. And as time passed, she'd begun to understand why Jamie had made that decision, even if she still believed it had been wrong.
The day Hope entered her life had been the key to that understanding.
There was nothing Ember wouldn't do to keep the little Dire Wolf cub safe. Nothing. If someone threatened Hope, Ember knew she'd do whatever was necessary to protect her, even if Hope didn't understand or agree with her decisions.
And that realization had forced Ember to consider something she hadn't wanted to admit.
Maybe Jamie had been thinking the same way when she'd chosen Ember's abilities.
It didn't make what Jamie had done right, and Ember wasn't ready to forgive her pack mate just yet. But that was the way things were heading, and she knew that, given enough time, forgiveness would come.
Ember was still thinking about that when Jamie suddenly vanished from her senses.
For one terrifying moment, their bond seemed to disappear entirely.
Ember nearly lost control and bolted from the formation, ready to race after Jamie without a second thought. But before she could move, she felt her pack mate again, nearly a mile to the west.
Relief washed over her, only to be replaced by something far worse.
Jamie was in danger.
Ember could feel it through their bond, and whatever had happened to her pack mate, she knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She had to get to her. The Dryad was lost without her.
Ember could hear the panic spreading among those who had witnessed Jamie's disappearance. They were just as frightened as she was, but unlike Ember, they had no idea where Jamie had gone. They didn't share the bond that allowed Ember to sense her.
From the day they'd first met, Ember had almost always been at Jamie's side. Now that they were separated, she suddenly realized she had no way to communicate with the others around her. She couldn't simply tell Adelaide or Tovin what had happened, and there was no time to figure out another way.
She needed to act quickly.
Sentinel, I need to find Jamie. She's in danger. Stay here with Hope and protect everyone.
Sentinel sent back his understanding, but Hope immediately protested. She wanted to go with Ember, and the little Dire Wolf made her displeasure known through their bond.
Ember and Sentinel shut that idea down together, their response carrying the unmistakable warning of two adults nipping a disobedient cub's ears. Whatever Hope thought about the matter, neither of them was going to tolerate any cub-like behavior right now.
Someday, Hope would grow into a fierce fighter, and Ember would almost feel sorry for whoever found themselves on the receiving end of those fangs. But today was not that day.
Unable to speak aloud, Ember leaped onto Lady Adelaide's right shoulder, hoping to get her attention. The moment her paws landed, Adelaide flinched hard. At first, Ember thought she'd startled the Vanguard, but then Adelaide flinched twice more in quick succession.
Ember realized what had happened. Both Tovin and Sentinel had been struck by arrows, and Adelaide's Damage Transfer ability had absorbed part of the damage.
Turning toward the north, Ember spotted the problem. The undead had broken through the defensive line and were advancing straight toward their position. Tovin and Sentinel were already reacting to the threat, while one of the cooks, who also served as a secondary healer, hurried forward and began treating their wounds.
Ember immediately started casting spells, throwing everything she could at the approaching undead. She needed to reach Jamie, and every moment she remained here made the fear gnawing at her worse. But she couldn't ignore the danger unfolding right in front of her.
Jamie needed her, but so did the people she'd promised to protect.
And until the breach was contained, Ember wasn't going anywhere.
Arch Lich Othran watched from a safe distance with a mixture of disappointment and satisfaction as his forces finally began breaking through the Dryad Princess's defensive lines.
The Spirit-folk had proven far tougher than he'd anticipated. His intelligence had placed most of their fighters in the upper thirties, with only a handful reaching the low to mid-forties. Most classes in this world never made it past Level 50, and reaching that milestone was an achievement in itself. Many died trying to reach those higher levels, while members of the shorter-lived races sometimes simply ran out of years before they could get there.
It took a special breed of individual to devote so much of their limited lifespan to leveling. When he'd still been human, Othran had intended to be one of those select few. But fate had other plans for him, and becoming an undead Lich had ultimately provided him with a path to heights that so few ever reached.
Being a Lich was, in and of itself, something of a cheat. He received a percentage of the experience earned whenever his controlled undead killed living creatures. It was similar to how nobles among the other races sometimes started wars with their neighbors, knowing that as long as they personally led their armies, they would receive a share of the experience earned whenever their soldiers killed an enemy. They could remain safely behind their troops, far from the fighting, and simply let the experience roll in.
It was a cold truth about this world. Power and privilege went hand in hand, and more often than not, it was the people at the bottom who suffered for the ambitions of those above them.
His own army wasn't particularly impressive when it came to individual levels either, with only himself and four others above Level 40. But he had the advantage of numbers, and that should have been more than enough. This should have been a slaughter from the moment the first arrows flew. Instead, the Spirit-folk had made him fight for every inch of ground.
First, there had been that damned Pixie, tearing through entire formations with devastating kinetic strikes and shockwaves. At least he'd planned for her. She was now locked in a life-or-death struggle with his Death Pixie, leaving the rest of his army free from her relentless attacks.
What he hadn't planned for was how effectively the Princess's remaining forces would fight.
The Goblin Riders, in particular, had caught him completely off guard. He'd never encountered them in battle before, and watching them tear through his undead formations had been an unpleasant surprise. Their coordination with their Dire Wolf mounts made them far more dangerous than their levels suggested, and it had taken Othran longer than he cared to admit to recognize the threat they posed.
Only after he'd ordered his Death Knights to concentrate on the Riders had the battle finally begun turning in his favor.
He'd been told countless times that levels and numbers didn't always determine the outcome of a battle. Not all classes were created equal, and the Goblin Riders had certainly demonstrated that. Despite being only in their mid-thirties, they'd managed to fight his Death Knights on nearly equal terms.
The Riders had paid dearly for it, of course. Most were now dead, along with their damned Dire Wolves. But they'd extracted a heavy price in return. Two of his seven Death Knights had been destroyed, along with dozens of his lesser undead. Those were losses he could hardly afford.
Still, the Riders were no longer a serious threat, and his remaining forces were finally beginning to overwhelm the shield walls. Given enough time, Othran had little doubt the battle would end in his victory.
Unfortunately, time was the one thing he didn't have.
The enemy reinforcements were getting close, and they were bringing many more of these damned Goblin Riders. Othran glanced at his watch again, calculating how much longer he could afford to continue the assault before risking his entire force.
Seven minutes.
That was all he had left before he'd need to order a retreat.
He turned his attention toward the western woods, where the Succubus Princess was supposed to be handling the most important part of their plan.
“That damned Succubus had better make it quick!”